


pressure

by scientiafic (reiirae)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Gen, King Noctis Lucis Caelum, Light Angst, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiirae/pseuds/scientiafic
Summary: - a year can change a lot.





	1. suppression

**Author's Note:**

> this is my entry for the ffxv & chill discord server’s one year anniversary competition! i haven’t been there very long but thank you to everyone for being wonderful and lovely <33

_A year can change a lot._

For a long time, Noctis couldn’t believe that saying to be true. Years passed by with little importance to him - he didn’t think anything massive ever happened in his life. Ignis always reminded him to be patient, that he’d understand when he was older, but honestly Noctis had never been the patient type. 

It wasn’t until he was twenty-three that he truly understood the weight such a seemingly small phrase could carry. A weight nearly as heavy as the crown that sat on his head, constantly slipping askew if he moved too much because it was just slightly too big for him. Another reminder that he could never fill his father’s shoes.

Regis passed away a few days after Noctis’s twenty-third birthday, his ailing health finally getting the better of him. Taking the throne at such a young age was daunting to Noctis, but, really, he had no choice - his father had always told him he’d be ready when the time came, although Noctis wasn’t sure he fully believed those words.

He just hoped Regis knew what he’d been talking about.

Not even a week later, Noctis was crowned king. The populace couldn't be happier, Ignis reported to him the following day, despite the ongoing, nationwide grieving period for the passing of their beloved king. 

The first few days of his reign were quiet, with most of Insomnia still focused on mourning Regis’s passing. Noctis silently thanked the Gods - it gave him just a little more time to adjust to his new position. Ignis had warned him of the pressures and responsibilities that came with ruling Lucis, although Noct had always been one to brush off his advisor’s words, claiming that his reign was far away enough that he had no reason to worry. 

It wasn’t long before Noct began to feel the pressure of his new position. Dignitaries from across Lucis were interested in getting a true measure of his capability to rule, with many of them applauding the unexpected competence he’d proven in being able to take on the role so readily after his father’s death. He’d never enjoyed the social aspects of his position, even as prince, and the sudden increase in council meetings and royal visits only made him more uncomfortable. The people he was surrounded by cared more from his power than him as an actual person. Did Regis always feel this way? He felt like a mere actor among the nobility, pretending to be the powerful king he was positive he would never be.

It was from then on out his relationships with his retinue began to become strained. The pressure crushing down on on his shoulders made him try to back out of the media’s eye, much to Ignis’ dismay. 

 

 

“Noctis, as the King of Lucis, you cannot simply refuse to make public appearances. Your father never did such a thing.” 

“I’m not him though, am I?” Noct retorted sulkily, trying to busy himself with paperwork enough for his advisor to leave him alone. His attempt seemingly failed, though - Ignis remained in place, frowning disapprovingly at his king.

“Regardless, it is an important part of your job to make time for your people,” Ignis continued, shaking his head. “It is a king’s job to care for his people, not to hide away from them.”

“You know it’s not like that, Ignis,” the king sighed. “I don’t _like_ making public appearances. At all. I never did when I was prince, either.” 

Ignis shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well then you’ll have to get used to it, won’t you?” he snapped, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“Don’t start.” 

“I’m not ‘starting’ anything, Noctis. I’m simply telling you how it is.” 

“Just...leave me alone, all right?” 

“As you wish.” 

 

 

He didn’t mean to get angry at Ignis, really - the man had been by his side since he was six years old, when he first swore an oath of loyalty he barely understood. They had a bond nobody could even begin to comprehend. Ignis’ undying patience and ability to understand practically any challenge Noctis threw at him, all with minimal complaining, combined with Noct’s somewhat childish nature and opposition to his position as future ruler had lead to them having a virtually inseparable relationship. Ignis filled in the gaps that Noct couldn’t. It was difficult, though, to return the same patience when Ignis could be so _infuriating_. Deep down, he knew what Ignis was saying was completely correct. Even though he frequently ignored Ignis’ orders, he knew perfectly well how dedicated and dependable his advisor was. 

As for Gladiolus...Noct had butted heads with his Shield since their first training session together. Their fiery tempers and hot headed attitudes only seemed to clash more as the pressure increased. He often found himself making a conscious effort to avoid the older man, unable to bring himself face-to-face with Gladio after a heated argument. It was Ignis who had to play mediator in most of their situations, forcing both of them to begrudgingly apologise to the other. 

He knew the constant disagreements were hurting Gladio, and he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt him either. Each time they argued, the fallout seemed to worsen. Prompto often made himself scarce when an argument began brewing between the pair, and Ignis had grown bored of their constant aggression long ago. 

 

 

“Drop the attitude, Noct,” Gladio growled, stepping away from the young prince. “I'm getting real tired of you acting like this.”

“Acting like what?” Noctis snapped, patience worn thin from hours of relentless training and constant chastisement. 

Gladio let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “You know exactly what you're doing, princess, and I'm not gonna put up with it. I could be doing a million other things right now.”

“Go ahead!” Noct scowled darkly, his entire body visibly tensing as he took a few steps back and threw his weapon to the ground. Despite his best attempts to keep his voice steady, he faltered briefly as he continued, “It's not like I need all of this right now.”

The older man paused, as if thinking of a way to respond, - maybe even to comfort him - before giving up and shaking his head. “Whatever you say, _your Majesty_ ,” he sneered, leaving Noctis alone in the silent training hall.

 

Same as with Ignis, Noctis didn't intend to clash with Gladio in the way he did. At the end of the day, his Shield had years of combat experience and expert training, something Noct was struggling to match, much less rival. He was just too damn irascible, constantly finding a way to correct his charge’s technique, form, or stance. 

Prompto was more withdrawn, Noct noticed. The blond was gradually became quieter around him, afraid of inciting his anger and being on the receiving end of his wrath. He seemed to hang around more with Ignis, actually, a fact that pained Noct, even if he could understand exactly _why_ Prompto wouldn't want to be around him. He knew he wasn’t the paragon of kindliness, at any rate, but the way his friend had gone from just that, a _friend_ \- his one and only, outside his position as prince-turned-king, to something of an estranged acquaintance didn’t help his growing ire abate.

 

 

“Prom, are you feeling okay?” 

“Huh? Me? Uh, yeah, I'm...I’m okay. Are you?” Prompto responded, looking along the table at his friend. Noctis couldn't miss the waver in his friend’s voice - the blond was clearly afraid of something, and it was most likely him. 

“Yeah, yeah...I'm good,” Noctis answered distractedly, his mind occupied by the words printed upon the thick stack of paper before him. “You haven't seen Ignis, have you?” 

Prompto didn't answer for a few moments, meeting Noctis’ gaze as he looked up before forming a response, “Ignis? Yeah, I saw him earlier. He was talking to Cor.” 

“Thanks,” the king replied, slipping out of his seat to search for his advisor. As he left the room, he heard his friend let out a heavy sigh and his heart begged him to turn back and _talk to Prompto, damn it_ , and to just tell him what's been going on instead of pushing him away further. 

He keeps walking, instead. Those feelings can wait.

 

 

Prompto was his best friend - the person he trusted with everything, whether it was a trivial secret from their high school years or a military budgeting issue, regardless of his lack of a noble title. They’d never had any kind of argument, really, aside from petty bickering. So he couldn't explain what made him shove the blond further and further out of his life, or what made Prompto stick around for so long in the face of Noct’s quiet neglect. Unlike Ignis and Gladio, Prompto could leave whenever he pleased - he wasn’t sworn to serve Noct like the others. Noct was grateful that the blond hadn’t deserted him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do, should Prompto choose to leave, and he didn’t really want to think about it too deeply.

Nobody was meant to get hurt. Regretfully, ignoring Ignis in his younger years and refusing to acknowledge and prepare for his future position as King of Lucis had placed him at a severe disadvantage, and the pressure only continued to mount the longer he was seated on the throne. Part of him wished he could abdicate and run away to some far-off country, never to be seen again. But resigning from his position would throw all of Lucis into turmoil, he knew. 

It didn’t stop him from wishing.


	2. liberation

A year on the throne moulded Noctis into a different man.

It was easier for him to make the public appearances he was supposed to, a young king navigating the court like his father had before him, and to give his own thoughts in the council meetings with confidence. He’d been virtually silent, before. Much to Ignis’ delight, Noct had finally begun to put a dent in the pile of overdue pieces of paperwork addressed to him, even though he was still literal _years_ behind, what with the backlog from Regis’s previous reign and the war. The arguments between himself and Gladio cooled to nothing more than small disagreements every now and then, and Prompto bounced back into his life with the same luminance and vigour he’d always possessed. Noct didn’t realize how much he missed the easy reprieve from the stress of his duties until he nearly feels himself crack under the burdens still building atop his shoulders. Prompto drags him out from where he’d been slowly suffocating with a grin and offers of King’s Knight when Ignis isn’t watching . Noctis isn’t sure how much longer he could have gone on without each of them, at that rate, and he’s grateful for their rekindled faith in him as well as their patience.

“Your Majesty, I have a few reports from Altissia, following on from the topics discussed at the last meeting,” Ignis’s calm voice cut through Noct’s thoughts, dragging him back to reality. He looked down at his advisor, who bowed briefly before flicking through a handful of papers. The throne gave him height on Ignis, something he’d never had himself. A year ago, Ignis’s words would have sounded foreign to him; he had hated the formality of _”Your Majesty”_. It was a reminder of his father’s death, of his inheritance and duty to the kingdom. Today, those words were familiar and Ignis looked up at his king with a glimmer of pride in his eye. 

“And? I assume the progress is good?” Noct enquired, tilting his head to one side and resting it on the back of his hand. 

Ignis nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Indeed. Your ideas proved extremely resourceful.” 

Noctis let out a small sigh of relief, tension releasing in increments from his shoulders. “I’m glad,” he murmured, the authoritative tone he adopted when discussing matters of importance slipping from his voice, his normal way of speaking an obvious contrast to how he has to sound for council. “I wasn’t sure if they’d accept the proposal.”

“You never give yourself enough credit for the work you do, Noctis,” Ignis responded, visibly relaxing. “You may have different thought processes to your father, but that does not make them any less valuable. You have proven yourself a worthy king, both to me and to Lucis, and, as such, you have our respect.”

“It’s not like I had to try very hard. Most of them liked me because of my dad,” Noct pointed out, shaking his head. There was look of sadness painted across his features, as hard as he tried to retain a neutral composure. 

Ignis frowned, fixing Noct with a disapproving look. “That is completely false. Although I chose not to mention it at the time, I knew many leaders had their… _reservations_ about you. Considering you were practically untested the political sphere and then installed in a position of such high authority, their concern is understandable,” he explained, “but you have changed, Noctis. You have proven yourself worthy of the crown.”

Noctis sighed, letting his shoulders slump forward, almost as though the overwhelming pressure had become tangible. “I still have a long way to go.”

“Need I remind you that you have only been on the throne for a year?” Ignis shot back, narrowing his eyes. “Your father had years to establish his reign, and you are comparing his entire rule to that of your _first year_? That comparison is _absurd_ , Noctis.” 

“I bet he didn’t take six months to adjust,” Noct quips, sinking down into the throne in the approximation of a very regal (if not incredibly weary) sea star, limbs askew as he falls out of his role as king with absolutely no decorum.

“I cannot answer that, but I highly doubt he was immediately prepared for such a role,” his advisor replied, expression softening slightly. “You should be proud of what you have achieved in such a short space of time. I know King Regis would be.” 

Noct didn’t answer. Ignis knew him well, sometimes too well for his own comfort, and the older man was perfectly aware of Noct’s lack of self-confidence. He was a scared twenty-four year old, at the end of the day, with the pressures of an entire kingdom on his shoulders. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” Gladio’s voice echoed through the cavernous throne room and Noct looked down to lock eyes with his Shield. Beside him stood Prompto, beaming brightly up at his king. Although Gladio didn’t move, Prompto ducked his head in a quick bow before returning his gaze to Noct’s face.

“He’s in pain from having to agree with Iggy,” Prompto chimed in gleefully, leaning against Gladio’s arm.

“Can it, blondie,” Gladio growled, turning his attention back onto Noctis. “Like Specs was saying, you’ve done a lot. Improved a lot. Don’t beat yourself up all the time.”

Ignis smiled appreciatively, gesturing for the pair to approach the throne. “Before you accuse me of being biased, you have two other opinions. Although I _would_ be slightly offended if you really thought we would all lie to save your feelings.”

Noctis laughed, tossing his head back in mirth. “Gladio doesn’t save _anyone’s_ feelings. He’d tell me I’m a terrible king here and now.”

“That is true. He does have a remarkable lack of tact…” Ignis teased, glancing pointedly at Gladio.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I actually came here because I have a bone to pick with His Highness,” his Shield drawled, raising an eyebrow, “but considering you two were busy having a heart-to-heart, I thought I’d save it for another day.”

“You’re too kind,” Noct deadpanned, carefully adjusting his crown again. “If it’s about me skipping training, I was busy.”

Gladio snorted, rolling his eyes. “That’s a terrible excuse and you know it.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It...kind of is, Noct,” Prompto murmured, tilting his head to one side. He never stopped looking vaguely intimidated when in the throne room. He’d confessed once that the vaulted ceilings and huge, marble steps made him feel inferior, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, much less at Noct’s side. He was more comfortable nearly glued to Gladio’s side when facing the imperious view that was Noctis on his throne.

“As King of Lucis, I’m a busy man. I don’t always have time to work with Gladio,” Noctis replied, the authority returning to his voice once again. He stifled a laugh as he watched Prompto’s demeanour change rapidly, the smaller male snapping up straight and nodding frantically.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty!” he squeaked, eyes wide. 

“He’s messing with you, Prom.” Gladio shook his head, placing an arm around the blond’s shoulders. “We’ll leave you two in peace, but you should listen to Ignis more, as much as you hate it,” he murmured, a seriousness filling his voice, “he’s annoying, but he’s also smart. Worth listening to.”

Noct nodded slowly, watching the pair slowly make their way out of the room. Ignis remained a few feet away, a slight frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Mm? Oh, nothing of importance. I was just...thinking,” Ignis answered distractedly. 

“About?” Noctis pressed, tilting his head to one side. He tried to ignore how his crown slipped to one side, how it wasn’t really _his_ crown, but just part of the role he’d inherited.

“You.”

“Well, I guess that is what you’re paid to do,” Noct joked, his smile fading a little. “You still look worried. Did I do something?”

Ignis shook his head, sighing softly in a way that he’d taken to doing all too often, as of late. “No, no, not at all. I am simply trying to think of a way to make you realise how far you’ve come in just a year.” 

“I...I don’t really think you can,” Noct mumbled. “No matter what I do, I’ll never be able to stop comparing it to what my dad did.”

Ignis bit at his lip, eyes never straying from Noct’s. “But that’s wrong,” he murmured unhappily. “Despite your similarities, you are two completely different people. It would be wrong for the people of Lucis to expect an identical ruler.”

“That doesn’t stop them,” Noctis responded dryly.

“Just like you had to adjust to being king, the people need to adjust to having a new king. Many of them lived with Regis as their ruler for many years. It will take them time,” he responded. “It surprises me that I am having to remind you to give yourself a break. You cannot do everything at once.”

“No. I guess not,” the young king murmured, frowning thoughtfully. “Thanks, Ignis.”

“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty.”


End file.
